Everyone wonders if you cut
or have suicidal thoughts.
I can still be depressed
and not want to die
or hurt myself.
Everyone wonders if you're sad.
No one ever asks if you're
happy.

I'm never really sad.
Some days, I'm just a little less happy than others.

I get happy sometimes.
Right now I'm happy.
I like it.
It's refreshing.
The happiness fills me.
Right to the top.
I love it.

Fake smile,
           Dried eyes,
                       Scratched wrists,
                                         Bruised thighs,
                                                         White pills,
                                                                      Rope tied,
                                                                                Gun loaded,
                                                                                                     *Suicide.

292

If your Nerve, deny you—
Go above your Nerve—
He can lean against the Grave,
If he fear to swerve—

That’s a steady posture—
Never any bend
Held of those Brass arms—
Best Giant made—

If your Soul seesaw—
Lift the Flesh door—
The Poltroon wants Oxygen—
Nothing more—

I've missed being drowned
in the sweet smell
of your perfume;
the phantom
of the past
haunts me,
I'm all alone.
Tell me, how can I
see the street lights
with you again,
when I'm here,
at the corner,
watching you kissing him?